We lie, we cheat, we steal
by Deadborder
Summary: Some people are good at lying and cheating and, most importantly, getting away with it. But how do you steal a mercenary unit?


**Jumpship **_**Xim the Despot**_

**Zenith Jump Point, Epsilon Erandi System**

**Word of Blake Protectorate**

**7 March, 3067**

Captain Reven Dyron stalked her way through the corridors of the Jumpship's Grav Deck, glad for the sensation of gravity as she went, As decrepit (and smelly!) as she ship was, the sensation of being in normal gravity after days of weightlessness was a definite relief. Zero-G had its benefits, but the novelty value got very old, very quickly. Also, her long hair flying all over the place was a definite inconvenience. Oh, she could surrender to practicality and wear her hair shorter, but her hair was just so nice.

Behind her was her air lance commander (and professional witless minion), Z-One. The contrast between the two couldn't have been more dramatic. She was tall and attractive, with long black hair and piercing green eyes, dressed down in a form-fitting suit that was open to her navel. Conversely, he was a very nondescript man in a blue flightsuit, his face almost completely hidden by a bandanna and helmet. She'd long since given up asking why he did; he just did.

"So just remember, Zed", she began, glancing back at him. "Keep your mouth shut, smile and nod and don't contradict a thing anyone says."

"Like I ever do anything else." He replied, the sarcasm dripping off his words.

"Excellent." She finished as they stopped outside a door, sighing before proceeding. "One more damn meeting, Reven. Be strong."

"Just imagine everyone in their underwear, if that helps."

She shuddered. "I did not need that." Resignedly, she pressed, the intercom button on the door. "Dyron here."

"Enter." The harsh female voice on the other end replied.

Putting on her best fake smile, she opened the door and stepped into the room, Z-One behind her. Smaller then the main ops centre on the bridge, the briefing room was crowded even with the small number of people in there, gathered around the holotable in the centre.

"You're late." Danae Weiss began without even looking up. Tall and heavily built, her short white hair gave her a very masculine look, one that Reven had made innumerable jokes about – at least, when she knew Danae wasn't listening. However, Weiss was the leader of the Blackguards, the unit that Reven was a member of. This made her Reven's commanding officer, which meant that she had to pay her a modicum of respect. _For now._

"I had important matters to deal with."

"Nothing is more important then your duty." The mercenary commander stated, angrily. "Bear that in mind, Dyron, next time you have important business."

_Ooh, I'm 'Dyron' now. She's pissed. _"Yes, Major Weis." She finished without a hint of conviction.

"Now that we have that out of the way" Weiss continued. "Captain DeSlowe has the latest information on our target."

Danae's second stepped forward. Taller than she was, he was rather gaunt and pallid, with long, limp black hair. Combined with his choice of attire, he looked like a funeral home director – or a well dressed vulture. "Our goal is not to conquer the whole world, rather, it is to merely take and hold one of its states." He started. "With its HPG destroyed, Fletcher has degenerated into a collection of feuding city-states, as well as to act as a hub for bottom tier, disreputable mercenary commands."

_As opposed to this top-tier, disreputable command, _Reven thought to herself.

"Our target, Ambermill, is one of the largest and wealthiest. Our employer wishes to use it as a beachhead to further their goals."

"Ambermill's wealth has allowed them to raise a passable militia", he explained, pressing several buttons on the console. "They have approximately a regiment, but most of that is light armour and infantry." The display changed over to show a map of Fletcher, illuminated points illustrating force concentrations. "The local weather conditions limit the employment of air power. The militia has a squadron of conventional fighters, but they are rarely employed and likely lack experience. Certainly our fighters should be able to handle them."

Reven was certain that Z-One was smirking behind his bandanna. She elbowed him.

"Ambermill is not popular amongst the other city-states on Fletcher. As such, I doubt that they will receive outside help if they call for it." He explained. "At the same time, we should limit the fighting to the territory controlled by Ambermill proper; spilling over into other territories will likely provoke their own forces." He paused as he looked over the map.

"The biggest concern is the most recent addition to their forces." DeSlowe continued. "Ambermill's government has hired Kevin's Devastators, a mercenary unit, to reinforce their strength. While they are only two companies strong, their heavy and assault mechs, as well as a few heavy tanks, do add a lot to their forces. While there are a number of other mercenary units on-world at present, the Devestators are the only one that have a contract with Ambermill"

"Assuming that the Devastators choose to stand with the militia, then we will need to deal with them first." Danae continued. "Fortunately, their mechs are of a lower quality to ours, which should help us. I suspect that if we inflict even a few casualties on them, then they will break and run like the cowards they are."

Reven quietly rolled her eyes.

"My Alpha Company will be leading the assault." She continued. "Dyron, your Bravo company will support Alpha and help deal with their heavy hitters." She glance upwards at another one of their officers; a slender man with a shaved head, dressed in form-fitting leathers. "Silmaris, I will have your Charlie company keep the militia units under control."

"Using mechs to deal with light tanks and infantry? Hardly seems fair." He smirked. "My kind of fight."

"Boh's troops will support your mechs." She finished. "Obviously, this is a very loose and preliminary plan. Things could drastically change before we make planetfall."

_You have no idea. _Reven thought to herself with a confident smirk.

-----

**Dropship **_**Shortsword**_

**Pirate Jump Point, Fletcher System**

**Chaos March**

**8 March, 3067**

As soon as the _Xim the Despot _and its attached dropships rematerialised in realspace, Reven had leaped into action. Unbuckling herself from her seat on the ship, she pushed off, floating clumsily through the cramped corridors. She had never really learned how to handle herself in Zero-G, seeing it as being unnecessary; for now, she was more interested in speed then any acrobatics or grace. Within minutes, she had floated up to the ship's bridge.

"Well?" She asked as she floated over to the ship's captain. "Are we ready?"

The captain, a rugged man with a thick red beard and scruffy hair nodded. "Aye, but I still think that this is a stupid idea."

She sized him up and down. "Two things; first, I'm paying you to do what I say, not to think. Second, we all agreed to this. It's too late to turn back now." _Three, you've been staring at my chest ever since you met me, which means that everything is working out exactly to plan. _"Got it, Carl Bob?"

"Aye." He relied with a bit of reluctance. "Awaitin' yer orders, ma'am."

"Right!" She Picked up a communicator. "Reven to Fish. You there?"

"Hang on a sec..." There was a pause at the other end. "Yes, yes I am." Rick Zaurus, known as 'Citizen Fish' for no readily apparent reason, was the officer in charge of Reven's assault lance. He was also probably her second most loyal follower after Z-One, which was a very useful trait.

"How's Fletch doing?" She asked. Fletch was the commander of the recon lance and, in Reven's mind, a blatant kiss-up to Major Weiss. Definitely a problem.

"His TDS kicked in real hard." Fish replied. "He's been in the bathroom chundering since we got here, and shows no signs of emerging."

"Chundering?" She quirked a brow.

"You know, chucking. Technicolour yawning. Spewing. Heaving his guts up. Letting it rip. Revisiting lunch." Fish paused. "He's throwing up a lot."

"Oh, right." She nodded. "Perfect. Make sure he stays in there for another few minutes."

"Oh, trust me. He isn't going anywhere in a hurry." Fish finished. "Out."

She grinned as she turned back to captain Carl Bob. "All is ready. Tell your men to go."

He muttered under his breath, clearly not happy about it but still remembering the money he was getting for the deal. "Bridge to Engineering. Commence operation Lame Duck."

-----

The Blackguards' _Overlord _and _Fury _dropships both detached from their docking collars, boosting away from the _Xim the Despot. _The third ship, however, remained in place as the other two began to accelerate. Abruptly, the docking collar holding the _Union _in place erupted in a cloud of escaping gasses and debris, venting a plume into the blackness of space behind it.

-----

Danae stood on the bridge of the _Zweihander, _overlooking its operations. While she had no place here, she still had a desire to be in control of every aspect of the operation. She had to see exactly what was happening, exactly what was going on, as if simply by being there, she could control every aspect of the ship's manoeuvres. While she was there, nothing could go wrong; as if the very laws of probability and physics had to bend to her will.

She liked control. Control begat order. Order was what this universe needed.

"Separation successful." A technician reported. "Commencing acceleration."

There was a shudder as the ships massive interplanetary drive flared to life, pushing it away from its parent jumpship. As the acceleration imparted a feeling of false gravity to the bridge, Dana remained standing in place, unaffected by what was going on around her. She was as solid and immovable as a rock.

"_Gryph _reports successful separation and has also commenced acceleration" another technician called out.

"And the _Shortsword?_" The captain asked. Heavyset, he had craggy, lined features and a shaved head, while his pale tone suggested that he had lived most of his life in space.

"No word as yet." The tech called back. "One moment... it looks like something has gone wrong.

"What's happened?" Danae called out as she strode over to the technician's station. "What's going on?"

"Not sure." The technician shook his head. "There was an explosion onboard the Jumpship, I think. Seems to have come from the _Shortsword's _docking collar." Their eyes darted frantically over their console as they tried to take in all that was happening. "Both ships seem intact, but I can't tell what's going on over there. Hold on..." He glanced down at his console for a second. "I think they're trying to contact us."

"Put it on." She ordered.

The technician nodded, flicking a switch on his console. "Can you hear me?" A voice came over the speakers, heavy with static. "Are you there?"

"This is Major Weiss." Danae stated. '"Report your situation."

"This is captain Carl Bob onboard the _Shortsword" _he replied. "There's been some sort of malfunction in the docking collar, some sort of explosion."

"Can you still disconnect from the Jumpship?"

"We don't know, but probably not. The collar isn't responding to our systems, or those from the Jumpship."

"And the Jumpship?"

"The explosion fried their long-range communications. All we have is inter-ship communication to them. They're just as bad off as we are."

Danae snarled under her breath. "Put captain Dyron on."

"Major, with all due respect." Carl Bob replied. "I'm in charge of the situation here. Captain Dyron is a passenger and nothing else. She can't help us-"

"Put her on now. That's an order."

"Yes, major." He finished with a certain degree of reluctance.

There was a crackle of static, then a pause before Reven started speaking. "Dyron here"

"What's going on over there?" Dane demanded.

"Pretty much what Carl Bob said." Reven's tone was rather dismissive. "The docking collar's screwed and we can't go anywhere. Our ship, and everything on it, is stuck here."

"Can you get it working?"

There was another pause. "Carl Bob thinks that we can get the collar working, but it's going to take a day or two."

"We're four days from drop. Can you make it by then?"

"He thinks so." Reven replied, a degree of reluctance apparent in her voice. "But it would be tight. You'd need to hold out a day or two once down before we were able to make it, at the very least."

"If we abort the assault, we will be in breach of contract. I can't allow that." Danae finished. "We will continue the assault. You will follow us as soon as you can."

"Yes, Major." Reven replied, sharply. "We will do our utmost to join you as soon as possible."

Danae nodded. _This is a setback, but one that we will overcome. We will fulfil our mission, no matter what._

-----

Reven smirked as she closed the channel.

"Well?" Carl Bob asked.

"She bought it." Reven replied. "Now lets get to work." 

-----

**Dropship **_**Shortsword**_

**Pirate Jump Point, Fletcher System**

**Chaos March**

**12 March, 3067**

In truth, Carl Bob really didn't like it when Reven was on the bridge of his ship. She clearly knew very little about spacecraft operations, and didn't think that such things were important. The way she talked down to him and everyone else on the ship wasn't endearing her any to him either. But she had paid him a lot, which meant that he had to do what she said and put up with her presence.

Besides, there was something about her that he couldn't put his finger on. He had his dislike of her, and his anger at her. And yet, whenever he was actually dealing with her face-to-face, he found that he forgot all about them. He would be already to object to her or her blatant over-riding of his authority, and instead he would find himself agreeing to whatever she said.

Well, no more. He was not going to let himself be pushed around by her this time. He was going to give her a piece of his mind, and not let her treat him like a doormat.

She was coming now, expecting to tell him how he could do his job, the same as always. It was like this every time; the confident stride, the smug and self-assured look on her face, the dismissive handwave, the bodysuit unzipped down to...

_How far? I mean... does she have a really good razor or what?_

"Captain Bob." She stated. "What's the ship's status?"

He swallowed loudly, as if he was distracted. "uhh... All systems are, um green. Crew are on standby and at ready positions to go on your order. Basically, um, we're awaiting clearance from the _Xim the Despot, _and, um, we can go and stuff."

"Excellent." She purred. "And the _Despot?_"

"They say that they're ready when you are. Just give the word and we'll proceed."

Reven nodded. "And the status of the rest of the unit?"

"Major Weiss signalled that they were committing to the assault; they will begin the drop shortly."

"So timing is crucial here." She finished, rubbing her chin. "Right. I'm just making sure that my men are ready. As soon as all is clear with them, I'll signal you."

"Uh, of course. Anything else?"

"Well..." She trailed off. "You know, the name _Shortsword _is kind of, well, bland, don't you think? I mean, it's a generic weapon name given to a ship by an unimaginative CO with a sword obsession. Don't you agree?"

"Uh, yeah."

"So I was thinking we should rename this ship; something... I dunno, just something different." She paused. "Ah well, I'll worry about that later. Stand by for my signal, captain."

"Sure." He finished; however, Reven had already turned and was walking away. As he watched her shapely rear move under her tight bodysuit, there was the nagging doubt in his mind that he had meant to say something to her.

-----

"We're looking good." Reven began as she stepped into the corridor where Rick was waiting. Tall and muscular, he had long blond hair and chiselled features that gave him the appearance of an idle playboy rather then the veteran mechwarrior he was. "Carl Bob is all set to go."

"No doubts?" he asked, a definite note of concern in his voice.

"He was completely swayed by my charm and wit." She replied, her voice full of false modesty.

"And by that, you mean he was staring at your huge knockers." Fish stated, matter of factly.

Reven's expression visibly soured. As much as she liked Rick as a second in command and loyal follower, sometimes, his frankness was obnoxious. "And how are you doing? Has Fletch been properly dealt with?"

"Affirmative, captain." He nodded. "I had Ford deal with it. Suffice to day, he won't be a problem"

Erika Ford was a member of the Recon lance and, more to the point, romantically involved with Zaraus. Reven didn't like her, simply because she was a rival for Rick's attention. Still, if Rick trusted her to take care of Fletch, then she presumed that it would be done.

"What did you do to him anyway?"

-----

"The secret to surviving an extended stay in microgravity is exercise" Fletch lectured from the treadmill. A rather nondescript man, he sported short brown hair and brown eyes. Compared to some of the more colourful characters that made up the Blackguards, he seemed to fade into the background – which some suspected was how he preferred it. Of course, right now, clad in his sweatshirt and short pants, he was anything but inconspicuous.

"Uhuh." Erika Ford replied noncommittally. Short and slim, she had long hair worn in a braid and light brown eyes; however, her preference for impractically bright colours made her a very deliberate contrast to her commander. Right now, she was busy shovelling an assortment of fruits, vegetables and other materials into a blender.

"As your lieutenant, Ford, I should order you to do more exercise." He continued. "Each second you hare in Microgravity is a second that you are letting your muscles atrophy. I want my lance to be in peak fighting condition, regardless. And that means doing your utmost to keep yourself in peak physical condition."

"Yep." She continued, paying no attention to him whatsoever. Instead she was wondering if there was some way she could get assigned to Rick's lance. Of course, it'd be hard to justify her lightweight _Venom _in his Assault lance, but she could hope. And it'd mean that she wouldn't have to listen to Fletch. Rolling her eyes, she shoved the last few ingredients into the blender.

"With light mechs like yours, every microsecond counts." He was clearly rambling now. "Your reflexes and hand-eye coordination need to be impeccable, infallible. You can't rely on your armour and weapons to keep you alive; it all comes down to moving fast. And if your muscles have atrophied even the tiniest amount, then that could be the difference between life and death."

"Sure." Erika knew all this off by heart. She'd spent her whole military career in a light mech, and wasn't about to forget how to pilot one because of a few days of inactivity. As she hit the blend button, she wondered if there wasn't some rivalry going on; Fletch was looking for a promotion, and wanted to make his lance look better then someone else's. _Not that it'll matter._

"You done with my energy shake?"

"Sure thing, Lieutenant." She replied with false cheer as she handed over the drink.

"Excellent." He answered with genuine enthusiasm as he took it. "Because a good diet is just as important as exercise." He took a huge swig from the container, not breaking his stride. "Wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, of course sir" She finished, quietly wondering how he'd feel once the laxatives she'd added took effect.

-----

"Suffice to say, he's no longer a threat." Rick finished.

"Excellent. Get all hands ready. I'll head to the bridge." Reven finished, the glee evident in her voice. "I have been looking forward to this for a long time, Rick. I think it's time that I let our erstwhile commander in on the truth."

-----

**Dropship **_**Zweihander**_

**Low orbit, Fletcher**

**Chaos March**

**12 March, 3067**

As the _Zweihander _burned towards Fletcher's atmosphere, Danae patently sat in the cockpit of her _Highlander, _running through the systems checklist. While she had checked everything before, it paid to be careful; at this stage, there were still a lot of things that could go wrong. While the plan was to land the ship, there was every chance of opposition at the Landing Zone; she had to be ready to be out of the ship as soon as it was down, marching into enemy fire.

Of course, there was every possibility that things could go wrong before that could happen; if the ship was attacked or suffered a systems failure, she had to be ready to make an emergency combat drop; in such circumstances, the slightest fault with her mech or its systems could be fatal. As such, she had to be ready for anything – especially since a third of her force had been rendered unavailable, and would not be able to take part in the initial assault.

_I will have to take this up with the crews of both the dropship and jumpship, _she reminded herself. _This level of failure is intolerable. _She furrowed her brow in anger as she continued to check off her systems.

A beep from her communicator caught her attention. "This is Weiss. What is it?" She replied with a certain degree of annoyance. They were about to begin re-entry; she did not need distractions.

"This is the bridge. We have an urgent message for you from Captain Dyron."

"Put it through now." She stated. _If Dyron is after me personally, then it must be important. Otherwise, she could have just relayed through the captain. What is going on?_

There was a few seconds of silence, the lag from communicating over interplanetary distance, before Reven's voice finally crackled over the speakers. "Hey Danae. I figure you're about to begin the assault, so this is my last chance to speak to you. It also means that you can't back out now, so it's definitely the right time to tell you what our situation is."

"So the thing about the blow-out on the docking collar? Well, we faked that. The ship was never disabled, and we could have detached at any time. We just needed time to recharge the jump drive before taking off."

"Yeah, I wish I could see the look on your face right now. You must be livid!" Her tone had become distinctly mocking. "It's a pity I can't. Ah well." There was a dismissive sigh. "So, anyway, have fun on Fletcher, Danae. It's, like one big mortuary, so you and Malakai should fit in fine. We'll be taking off to Outreach, probably clearing out the unit's finances and then re-establishing ourselves under a new name."

"I'd say it's been nice knowing you but it'd be a lie. You're a self-righteous boor with delusions of grandeur. Oh, and you look like a man. You know, I've waited years to say that. Toodles!" There was a hiss of static as Reven closed the link.

"You filthy whore!" Danae shouted as she slammed her fist into the console. "You treacherous worm! How dare you!"

"Major?" It was the bridge. "What-" 

"Continue the attack." She snarled back. "Nobody crosses me. Nobody."

-----

"That was beautiful." Reven congratulated herself as she closed the commlink, before looking around at the bridge of the soon to be ex-_Shortsword, _a triumphant gleam in her eyes. "Signal the _Xim _that we're ready for jump. Our work here is done."

-----

**Blackguards Offices, Harlech**

**Outreach**

**Chaos March**

**21 March, 3067**

While many mechwarriors had their own dreams of running their own, bad-arse, universe-changing, super-elite mercenary units, those dreams rarely survived contact with reality. One of the many truths that they rarely could deal with was the idea that they couldn't run a unit on their own. A mercenary unit needed support; not just the technicians that repaired their mechs, but the administrators that helped manage the unit's finances and personnel. A unit that tried to be run by warriors for warriors and forsake accountants was one that rarely lasted. (Though those run by Mechwarrior-Accountants were to be feared)

Like many units, the Blackguards maintained their own offices in Harlech. A shabby and somewhat run-down complex, it pretty much amounted to a collection of prefab buildings attached to a mech hanger. However, now only a third of those bays were filled by the various machines of Reven's company, the rest of those missing in action.

The staff inside had been surprised by her sudden return. First because she was supposed to be with the rest of the unit engaged in an assault on Fletcher. Second, because she had arrived with only one company and nobody else.

"Officer's Meeting" Reven called out to the assembled staff as she strode through the room. Behind her were three others; her Assault and Recon lance commanders, Rick Zaurus and Fletch Chase, as well as the enigmatic Z-One, "Everyone stay at your desks. Important announcement to follow." She stormed into a meeting room with the three of them in tow. Following them was a fourth man; heavy and muscular, he had long brown hair in a ponytail, heavyset features, and more than a few scars. Several recognised him as Steve Fighter, Reven's bodyguard.

"Read nothing into this at all." Z-One added, before being dragged inside. There was a slam of a door, and the heads of the half-dozen members of the financial and human resources staff turning nervously to watch it, suddenly fearful for their jobs.

-----

"Right. This emergency meeting of the officers of the Blackguards is now in session." Reven began as she seated herself at the head of the meeting table. Around the table, the others also sat, with Steve standing by the door."

"Captain I must-" Fletch began, but was cut off.

"As I was about to say." Reven continued, glaring at Fletch. "Due to circumstances beyond our control, we have been forced to abandon Major Weiss and the rest of the unit. As they are not able to be present, as per the Blackguards' charter, I am now the acting commanding officer of the Blackguards until such time as Major Weiss is able to return."

"Captain-"

"As my first order of business as acting commander, I am instituting a reform of the unit's structure. Owing to current losses, the Blackguards will be acting as a single Company, under my command. Lieutenant Zaraus will remain in command of my Assault Lance, while Z-One will remain in command of the Red Wings."

"Then what about my recon lance?" Fletch spoke up, a suddenly urgent tone in his voice.

Reven sighed. "Fletch, it is my opinion that you are unfit to continue your duties as commander of the recon lance."

"What?" He shouted, standing as he did.

"Your obvious physical issues make it clear that you are unfit to continue your current role." Reven continued, not missing a beat.

"What... issues?"He narrowed his eyes, looking straight into hers.

"Incontinence." She stated. "You spent several days in the toilet for hours at a time. Now I can't have an officer who cannot control his bowels. You're a liability on the battlefield, Fletch, and Im sorry, but I'm going to have to let you go."

"You can't do that!" He snapped.

"As acting commander, I can." She stated. "It is the commander's duty to replace or remove members of the unit who are unfit to perform their duties or are a hindrance to the unit. And, unfortunately Fletch, you are now such a hindrance. Myself and the other officers of the unit are in agreement on this."

"We took a vote." Z-One helpfully suggested.

"Why wasn't I a part of this?" He angrily asked.

"You were indisposed." He stated. "Which kinda underscored the point."

"Anyway," Reven spoke up again. "We thank you for your contributions, wish you all the best for the future, so on and so forth et cetera." She waved her hands in the air. "Please vacate your quarters and have your mech removed from the hanger facilities or else they will be seized by the unit. Steve, show the nice man out."

Steve clamped a hand on Fletch's shoulder, squeezing it. "Come on." He grunted. "Don't make me hurt you." His tone suggested that yes, he did want to hurt Fletch.

"Right." Fletch snarled as he headed to the door. "Mark my words, Dyron, you will pay for this. I will make sure that your crimes here do not go unpunished. You will be held to account for your actions."

"Sure, whatever. Just don't let Steve hit you on the butt on the way out."

As soon as the pair of them were out the door, Reven leaned back on her chair, a smug look on her face. "Well that's the last we'll ever see of him." She stated. "Never did like the guy, actually. Even if he wasn't a total arse-kisser, I still would have chucked him."

"There is one issue, however." Rick spoke up. "Without him, we do need a new commander for the recon lance."

"Oh, definitely." She stated. "But, for now, there's something more important to deal with."

"Which is?" Rick narrowed his eyes, trying to figure what she was up to.

"A name change." She finished. "The Blackguards is so boring, so pedestrian and so full of Danae's insufferable ego. We need a fresh start."

-----

Five minutes later she emerged from the meeting room, a broad grin on her face. "You, Random accountant!" She called out, pointing at one of the nervous-looking admin staff.

"Yes?"

"As Major Weiss is no longer with us, a fresh start is in order. Pull up the paperwork to get this unit re-registered by the MRBC as 'Reven's Storm Riders.'" She gleefully hummed to herself, bobbing her head with self-satisfaction.

"Um, yes, ma'am. Right away."

"Oh, and, uh, as a cost-cutting measure as a part of the unit's restructure, three-quarters of you are fired. I'll let you sort it out amongst yourselves."

-----

**Outskirts of Pyrewood**

**Fletcher**

**Chaos March**

**25 March, 3067**

The Vedette tank sprayed fire from its Autocannon as it sprinted between buildings, the shells tearing a gash into the leg of Danae's _Highlander. _A glance at the damage monitor told her that, while the shot hadn't done much damage in and of itself, the damage her mech was taking was adding up. She swung the massive machine around, tracking the enemy tank's last position and heading.

_There. _The Vedette burst from cover again, however, this time she was ready. The _Highlander's _massive Gauss rifle spat a single shell, streaking towards the enemy vehicle faster then the eye could track. She slug hit home, slamming into the tanks' side, sending it reeling as armour and machinery were pulverised by the impact. A pair of medium lasers sliced into the tank's side, tearing through the gaps torn by the armour.

Skidding before crashing to a halt against the side of a house, a cloud of black smoke billowed from the rents torn in the tank's side, indicating the vehicle was no longer a threat. However, before Danae could get a moment's respite, a shrill alarm rang out through the cockpit, indicating a missile lock. The _Highlander _rocked under the impact of a barrage of missiles, shredding armour over its flank.

_This was not supposed to happen, _she snarled to herself as she bought the mech around to face its attacker. A spindly _Whitworth _stood there, defiant despite its massing less then half her mech. As she bought her weapons to bear, the mech ignited its jump jets, leaping out of her line of fire; instead, her Gauss Rifle shell slammed into the house it had been standing in front of, blowing it apart in a cloud of brick dust and splinters.

The enemy machine let off another pair of LRM volleys at hers as it leaped away; half of the missiles met their mark, grinding into her already depleted armour. With a snarl, she fired back, her Gauss round slamming into the smaller mech's arm, blasting it apart. The _Whitworth _stumbled, but remained upright, leaping back again.

"Damn you!" She screamed. "Come back here and fight!" She dropped her sights onto the mech again, only to be greeted by a red warning light; her Gauss Rifle was empty, having fired its last shot. "No! You will not escape me!"

"Major, we have across the board weapons failures." The voice of Malakai Deslowe cut in over the command channel. "Most units are reporting ammunition depletion. Our armour is low and we are running the risk of a combat loss grouping if we continue. We have to fall back."

"We will not-" she called out, only to be cut off as an impact rocked her mech, the massive machine staggering and tumbling backwards under the force of the blow. Fighting with the controls, she managed to keep the mech upright; a screech of twisting metal was her reward as the _Highlander_ found its footing, crushing a streetlamp. Glancing around, she saw her attacker, a _Cyclops, _painted in a gaudy, turquoise colour scheme.

"Worm!" She yelled, ignoring the warning beeps coming from her systems. "Get out of my way!" Again dropping her sights on the enemy machine, it was only then that she noticed her damage display; the enemy mech's Gauss Rifle round had crushed the SRM launcher on her machine's right arm, leaving her with only a pair of medium lasers.

"Fine. You win." Her words were tinged with anger. Keying the command channel, she opened a broadcast to her force. "All units, fall back. Withdraw from the town to rally point Kilo." She hated giving the order, but even worse, hated the circumstances that made it necessary.

She fired her _Highlander's _jump jets, the massive mech leaping backwards out of the _Cyclops' _line of fire, placing a school building between it and her. Mentally, she was seething, angered over the circumstances that had put her in this situation. What was supposed to have been an easy operation had tuned difficult. The enemy forces on planet had been stronger than expected, leaving her depleted forces massively outnumbered. Her core of heavy and assault machines were strong enough to hold off attacking forces, but the enemy's numbers were such that they couldn't break through.

The end result had been a bloody stalemate; her forces could not advance, but theirs could not crush hers. However, she could not retreat off-world; with no jumpship, they were stranded in-system. Fletcher's defenders could continue to wear them down, depleting their supplies before forcing her to choose between surrender and utter destruction.

What made this even worse was what had put her in this situation; if she had landed with her full force, then none of this would have happened. She would have been able to take on the forces that were arrayed against her; not only due to the added numbers and firepower of that missing mech company, but also the significant force multiplier of their two aerospace fighters.

However, that was all taken away from her by the treachery of a single woman, one of her loyal officers; someone she had trusted implicitly. Reven Dyron had done all this; her actions were a deliberate and calculated betrayal aimed at destroying her unit. Reven had stranded her here, stabbing her in the back, then twisting the knife.

"I will survive this." She swore to herself as her mech turned, leaving the town and its defenders behind her. "I will escape this wretched world. And I will make you suffer for this betrayal, Dyron."

------

**The Goat Tavern, Harlech**

**Outreach**

**Chaos March**

**25 March, 3067**

"You know" Reven began, casually waving a potato chip in the air. "I kind of wonder what's happened to Danae."

"Is it important?" Rick Zaurus looked up from his burger. It was, to his mind, one of the best burgers he had ever eaten. However, his enjoyment of the meal was somewhat hampered by his commander and her inability to focus on anything important or even vaguely relevant.

"Well, yes." She explained, as she bit into the chip. "You see, Danae's hard work and not inconsiderable effort is what got me where I am today. If she hadn't created the Blackguards, then I wouldn't have had anything to take from her."

"True that." He admitted. "However, there are other matters we need to focus on"

"And don't forget." She continued. "She got you your big break too." She dipped her chip in her pot of Galestio Hot Chilli Sauce "You were just some Mechwarrior with very nice hair that I found, but she made you an officer."

"And I thanked her by helping you betray her." He stated, dryly.

"Exactly!" She exclaimed. "And that's the point, Fish. I want to know how she's doing. I bet she's fuming right now. I mean, really fuming. I'd love to see her..." She dipped a second chip. "This is good sauce. Anyway, where was I?"

"Making important decisions about your unit." Fish offered.

"Danae fuming." She countered. "I reckon that she's probably screaming, shouting and throwing things by now. Probably curing my name every second word. She'd be talking about me all the time. It makes me quite happy with myself." She smiled smugly. "I'm infamous. Well, that is, if she hasn't been killed by the troops on Fletcher first. Either way is fine with me."

"Yeah, that's nice, Reven. But we still need to find a commander for the recon lance." Fish cut in as he mopped up sauce on his plate with a chip. "You've been putting it off for the last couple of days now, and we've established that we don't have anyone in the unit capable of taking over the role."

"Yeah, I suppose." She sighed. "Being a commander is hard work."

"No, really?" He raised a brow. "I still have no idea how you managed to run a company under Danae's command, let alone all on your own."

"I delegated everything to you and Fletch." She replied, dismissively.

"I should have figured." He shook his head. "Why didn't I notice?"

"Simple. My charm, wit, charisma and wonderful personality are enough to convince you to help out little old me with all the hard stuff."

"And by that you mean that I'm too busy starting at your chest." He stated in a very blunt, factual way.

"Well that too." She sounded more then a little dejected by this point.

"Anyway, recon lance commander."

"You know what?" Reven raised a brow. "If Danae makes it out of what we got her into, and she decides to replace my company, she'll need another captain." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "She'll probably promote that little weasel Dakkar. He's a total kiss-up, you know. He was totally infatuated with her, but I can't imagine why. Probably a bull-dyke fetish or something." She waved her chip around some more. "What do you think?"

"I think that you're dripping sauce into your cleavage, and that we need to focus on the matter at hand." He stated without a hunt of humour.

There was a loud "yeep" from Reven, followed by some very hasty fumbling with a serviette. "Right, you won. So where do we start looking for a morally flexible yet capable officer who is willing to work for a unit with no past credentials and based on a very, very dubious foundation?"

"I hear you're looking for a recon lance commander. I am the man you are after."

The pair of them looked up in surprise to see a man looming over their table. He was tall and slender, with fine, almost delicate features, supported by narrow blue eyes and long brown hair worn in a neatly arranged ponytail. Even more surprising was the fact that he was dressed in what were unquestionably field fatigues, despite being in the big city.

"Excuse me?" Reven asked.

"I wish to apply for the position of the commander of your recon lance, as advertised." He repeated. "And as he has been trying to explain to you for the last few minutes even though you weren't listening to him."

"Well..." Reven tried to regain her composure. "So what do you have to offer us mister..."

""Well!" He excitedly began. "I have considerable experience piloting medium mechs, with an emphasis on faster, more mobile types. I understand the necessities of mobility and evasion, and recognizing when to stand and fight and when to get the hell out. Furthermore, I have previous experience at recon/strike lance operations and command, especially with regards to independent or detached actions in such circumstances where an individual commander is required to rely on his own skills, wit and initiative rather then having a constant link to his superior and tactical information to provide them with a wider situational report. I believe in getting the most out of my men; I put my trust in them to do their jobs to the utmost of their ability, but I am not afraid to point out what needs to be improved and then work towards improving those fields with them. I also believe in leading by example; I would not order my men to do something that I would not be prepared to do myself. I follow the philosophy of just do what I do and follow everything I say and everything will turn our perfectly; however, at the same time, I am also open to suggestions from my men; learning is a two-way road and, as such, I am always open to new ideas and new suggestions from my subordinates."

He paused. "Also, you have sauce dripping down your cleavage."

"Ack!" Reven called out. "Not again!" She broke into another furious festival of wiping.

The man took one of her chips, dipped it in the sauce, then crunched on it, looking thoughtfully. "Galestio Hot Chilli Sauce. Reminds me of my time with the Caballeros"

"You served with Camacho's Caballeros?" Rick raised a brow, ignoring Reven's flailing with her napkin for the moment.

"No, but I ran away from them once. It taught me a valuable lesson, in that when your opponent sends out a lone girl on a mountain bike as a scout, you know they're up to something." He finished the chip.

Rick rubbed his chin, not sure what to make of the newcomer. "So what do you know about the role, mister..."

"Your unit, Reven's Storm Riders, was formerly Bravo Company of the Blackguards; however you appear to have divested yourself of two-thirds of the unit and reformed it as a single Battlemech company with fighter support. At present, due to this restructuring, you are in need of a commander for your Recon lance, which is the position that I am applying for."

"Clearly you have done your work, mister..."

He turned to Reven who was busy trying to regain her composure and dignity. "You are Reven Dyron; daughter of Tom Dyron, Solaris Top Ten contender for the 3031 season before dropping out. Your first major job was as a captain for the Blackguards." Without missing a beat, he then turned back to Rick. "You are Rick Zaurus, of the Oriente Zauruses. Your older sister, Leticia, inherited the family's mech so, as such, you decided to set out as a mercenary. Not present is your air lance commander, Z-One, a man who is a total enigma."

"You.... have... done your research, clearly." Rick finally replied.

He shook his head. "Just what I hear. It pays to keep one's ears open."

"Do you have your own mech?"

"A TR1 _Wraith._" He stated. "I was piloting it long before Aris Sung made it cool. In truth, I think he just copied my style and happened to get famous before I did, what with him being a hero of the Confederation and all that."

"And do you have any Referees?"

"I have an umpire." He helpfully offered.

"Well." Rick seemed to be at a loss for words, so he turned to Reven. "Do you have any questions?"

She seemed genuinely flustered. "I, um, can't think of anything. Can you?"

Rick shrugged. "So should we give him a try?"

Reven glanced at the man, then back at Rick. "Sure, why not? It's not like we're swimming in offers." She paused. "Did I get all the sauce off my boobs?"

Shaking his head, Rick turned back to the man. "Well, what we'll do is check you out in a simulator and see how you fare mister..."

The man took his hand, shaking it enthusiastically. "I look forward to it. I only hope that I am able to meet your unit's standards of battlefield performance and moral conduct."

"What is your name anyway?"

He paused, as if making up his mind. "Just call me Lambchop for now. Yep." 

-----

**Hiring Hall, Harlech**

**Outreach**

**Chaos March**

**29 March, 3067**

One of the many features and amenities provided by the Dragoons Hiring haul were extensive simulator pods for use by the mercenaries who operated out of the facility. State of the art, they could be set up to represent any one of hundreds of mech designs, as well as a wide range of battlefields and conditions. While many Mechwarriors used the facilities for practice, a number of units used the simulators to try out potential new recruits.

This was the case at the moment; Reven and Rick had invited Lambchop (the only name he had given) to the facility to get an idea of his skills, while introducing him to his potential subordinates. They'd set up the simulators to represent the mechs of the recon lance, while selecting a suitable opposition force. Then, the pair of them had stepped back to watch the battle as it unfolded in order to assess his skills.

"He's fast, I'll give him that much." Rick observed as he watched one of the monitors. On-screen, a computer model of a _Wraith _nimbly ducked past a _Phoenix Hawk _before returning fire with its own weapons. While the _Hawk's_ shots went wide, carving simulated furrows into the virtual landscape where the mech had been, the _Wraith's_ three pulse lasers met their mark, stripping armour off the enemy unit's chest. "He doesn't stand still if he can help it, and makes sure that the enemy are always chasing him."

"Well, the _Wraith _is good for that much." Reven replied. "So he knows how to use the mech, but what about all that Raxx-crap he sprouted about being a capable leader?"

"Listen for yourself." Fish handed her a headset, flipping a switch on the control console as she put them on.

"Ford, execute Tactical Manoeuvre Tangerine Milkshake Seven on my mark." Lambchop ordered, his voice clam and level. On-screen, his _Wraith _and her _Venom _were running side-by-side, an enemy _Dervish _moving to intercept.

"What the hell is that?" She shot back.

"Do something random. Anything." He quickly replied. "Mark!" The _Venom_ fired its jets, leaping to the right of the _Dervish, _while the Wraith ran at it, then began to zig-zag back and forth, keeping its weapons on the _Dervish. _As fire from the two mechs peppered its hull, the _Dervish _stopped in place, as if confused. Then, finally, it decided to lob a volley of LRMs at each of their mechs, both poorly-aimed shots going wide.

"What did you just do?" Ford asked.

"Shamelessly exploited the limitations of the enemy AI." He shot back as the _Wraith _spun around, pouring fire into the _Dervish's _flank. The virtual mech stumbled as computer-rendered armour and structure were sheared away. "You see, when you do something completely whack, Bob there has a brainfart and can't decide what to do. The invisible numbers behind it can't figure which one of us to shoot, so he gives up and lets at both of us."

"Bob?" Ford asked, her _Venom _landing in a crouch, opening up with its own pulse lasers. The ruby-red beams cut into the _Dervish's _hull, capitalising on the damage done by Lambchop.

"Bob Battle Bot. The AI." He finished as his _Wraith _leaped into the air, spinning around the _Dervish_.

"Huh." She muttered as her Venom took off into a run, while twisting its Torso to keep the enemy machine in its sights. "But that's not going to work against a real opponent, will it?"

"Not unless they're really, really stupid." He replied, then suddenly spun the _Wraith _around, opening fire on the _Phoenix Hawk _he had wounded before. The shots tore into the Mech's chest, sending it staggering back. "But the secret is to know your enemy and shamelessly exploit his weaknesses. That is your lesson for the day, Powney."

"My name is Erika." She stated.

"That too."

Reven put down the headset. "Well, he's either a genius or an idiot. Either way, I'm rather impressed."

Rick nodded. "As much as I hate to agree, I think he may be the man for the job. Certainly, he does seem to be capable enough, and he certainly doesn't seem to have any issues with our rather dubious background and lack of credentials."

"True that. And it's not like we're swimming in prospective alternatives"

"Again the truth." After Rick had formally posted an actual advertisement for the position on the MRBC's hiring boards, there had only been two other potential recruits, and he had eliminated both already. Start-up units like this rarely attracted good material. "So what do you reckon?"

"I'm inclined to say go for it." Reven concluded as she watched the monitor. "He's clearly talented, he knows what he's doing, he doesn't seem to have issues with the unit's background and he's good looking. All I could ask for, really."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Good to see you have your priorities straight. I guess I'll make him an offer when we're done."

"Yeah! Take him out!" Reven cheered at the screen as the _Dervish's _torso exploded into a cloud of polygons as its virtual ammunition cocked off. "Take that you snivelling little rat!"

He sighed. "Reven, why did you use the Blackguards as the basis of the OpFor?"

She grinned back. "Because its fun watching them get trashed, Admit it."

-----

**Silverpine Forest**

**Fletcher**

**Chaos March**

**29 March, 3067**

To say that Danae was not happy with the way the Fletcher campaign had worked out would be an understatement. Two and a half weeks of fighting had yielded virtually no result; her unit had barely gained any ground, and expended a considerable amount of their resources while doing such. While her mechs were superior, and the local defences had no battlearmour of their own, the fact was that her enemies held all the advantages.

They had superior numbers. They were familiar with the local terrain. They had the planet's population on their side. They had ample access to supplies. And, above all else, they seemed to be very familiar with her own unit and its capabilities. She had to wonder how this had happened.

While her losses had been only light so far, she knew that it would not be long before they became crippling. The constant battles were chewing through their supplies to the point where it would not be long before they were sending half-ready mechs into the field with only limited ammo supplies. To make matters worse, it seemed that Reven had somehow arranged for all her unit's best technicians to be assigned to her company specifically, leaving Danae woefully short on capable personnel.

_Again she is the source of all my problems. _Danae snarled to herself as she looked back on her _Highlander_. While the mech had been repaired since the battle of Pyrewood Village, the scars of the battle were still visible. Much of the hull was bare metal, as the technicians had more important things to do then to match paint schemes. Looking along the mechs nearby, she could see a similar pattern; machines sporting glaring patches of bare armour. Silmaris' _Falconer _stood out simply for its normally midnight black and electric blue colour scheme; the contrast with the bare metal couldn't have been greater.

_I will find a way out of this, Reven. And I will see a way to make you suffer for this. You will die by my hands, but not before you know true pain._

She started back along their field headquarters around the two Dropships. The sheer firepower of the massive vessels was the only thing stopping the Fletcher militia forces from attacking them directly. Even then, if Danae's own forces began to suffer too badly, then they might see it worth the risk. Historically, the crews of grounded dropships were rather brave behind their armoured hulls and walls of firepower when there were other forces to help protect them. Should any enemy troops make it onto her ship, she knew the crews would probably surrender rather than fight. And her enemies knew that she would not risk firing on her own ships.

However, the outcome of this battle was not a certainty. There were still other options available to her, ones that her enemies may not have considered. She had taken a desperate gamble, one that, if it paid off, could see her snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. So great was the risk that she had told very few in her command outside of those directly involved with it, lest the word get to her enemies. She wasn't entirely convinced that Reven had left a loyalist or two behind, just to be sure.

"Major." Her communicator chirped to life, captain DeSlowe's voice coming over in his normally quiet tones. "Something has come up that I think you should be aware of."

_Could it be that my plan has worked? _She asked herself. "Very well. I will be there momentarily."

Moving at a brisk stride, she headed towards Malakai's Mobile Headquarters Vehicle. Due to its normally noncombatant nature, it had been left untouched by the fierce fighting so far, its hull remaining in its normal flat black. Many had jokingly compared the vehicle to a giant hearse; to her, it may have been their salvation.

Climbing into the rear command section, she headed to DeSlowe's private office, from which he had been running her operation. "Well?" She asked as she entered, shutting the door behind her. "What is it? News from Boh?" She had sent her Battlearmour force to covertly probe the enemy's defences, looking for a way through their lines. Their goal was to find an avenue to launch a "headhunter" attack, taking out the enemy's command capabilities – a move that, should it work, would quickly turn the battle to her advantage. Of course, if it failed, she would have lost a valuable asset.

"No." DeSlowe replied, hunched over the console. His lean features made him look like a vulture, while the darkened room, illuminated only by the light from his monitors, gave him a sinister aspect. "Instead, it is something completely unexpected."

"Explain."

He bought up a display of the Fletcher system. "Information skimmed form their satellite network revelled this much; a Jumpship entered the system via a pirate jump point approximately six hours ago. The vessel has failed to provide any identification, however, it has detatched dropships."

"Interesting. Any clues to their identity or intent?"

"None. However, if I may venture an opinion; the use of a Pirate Jump Point suggests that they are hostile to the defending forces on-world. They could be attempting to aid us, or ambush the Fletcher forces while they are tied down with us." He paused a moment. "There is, however, one other unpleasant possibility."

"Being?"

"That these forces are from the AMC, and are here to eliminate us. Their use of a Pirate point could simply be to make sure we do not have a chance to respond or escape."

She considered this for a moment. "So we are either saved, or doomed."

"An interesting conundrum." Malakai commented. "One moment."

"What is it?" She glanced over his monitors, doing her best not to betray her sudden apprehension at the situation.

"A message, from the jumpship, apparently." He adjusted is headset. "Their crew seems to have bounced the signal through a one of the local communications satellites, and then redirected it specifically at us."

She was taken aback by this. Such a manoeuvre would normally require a very skilled operator. "Who is it?"

"They are not identifying themselves. However, they are asking to speak to you specifically, Major."

_Why me? _She asked herself. _Is this salvation? Or has Reven arranged some force to finish me off. Perhaps she merely wants to gloat before delivering the killing blow. _She shook her head. _Regardless of what it is, I will face it. _"Put them on."

He handed her his headset. "There will be some lag, given that they are still several days out."

Nodding, she donned the set. "This is Major Danae Weiss." She stated, her voice crisp and clear, betraying none of what she had been through, or the perilous state of her unit. "Identify yourself."

There was a pause as her signal went out then as theirs retuned. "This is Demi-Percentor Ogel of the Word of Blake." The reply finally came; a stern and heavy voice. "I am aware of your units situation and how this has came to be. I have an offer to make you."

"Speak then."

"I have arranged forces to rescue yours, and help you fulfil your mission." He stated. "However, as a consequence of this action and the costs involved, I will need to redraw the terms of your contract with the Word of Blake. Do you accept this condition?"

Danae considered his words carefully. _The Word could use this as an opportunity to dictate terms; they could bind us permanently to their service, more slaves then hired warriors._

_However, in doing such, they give us an opportunity to escape this trap. And with that, the opportunity to extract my vengeance, and make Reven suffer for forcing to make this decision._

_I must balance the future of my unit against my own needs and desires. Whatever the Word wants of us, I know that it cannot be favourable. Their price will certainly outweigh my own needs._

_There can be only one possible decision._

"Name your terms, Percentor."

"A very wise choice." Ogel finally replied. "I shall have my agents transmit the new contract to you. Then, once my allies have made planetfall, we shall destroy those who have stymied the spread of the word."

"Peace of Blake be with you, Major Weiss."

-----

**Storm Riders Offices, Harlech**

**Outreach**

**Chaos March**

**31 March, 3067**

Like many mercenary units based on Outreach, the Storm Riders kept their mechs in a hanger facility attached to the offices. The reconstruction of Harlech had been based entirely around such concepts; reinforced, extra-wide streets that were built for mechs, walkways and overpasses that were large enough for even the tallest of mechs to easily pass under and so on. Much of the office space in the mercenary district was taken up with such hanger space; one thing that people looked for when renting real estate was how many mechs a facility could accommodate.

Right now, Reven was out the back, supervising the allocation of a bay space for of Lambchop's _Wraith _and introducing the tech crews to the machine. And by supervising, she was actually really leaning on a railing watching people doing the hard work. She had to admit that the _Wraith _was a reasonably impressive machine; while not overly fast, it had a sleek, streamlined design that suggested speed and agility. Even from here, she could tell that Lambchop kept the mech in good shape; it showed no obvious signs of wear or lack of maintenance, and the tactical camouflage scheme it was wearing looked professionally applied, rather then simply slopped on.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Z-One asked as he strolled over to her. He was dressed in his usual flightsuit, compelte with helmet and bandanna. He was also drinking a fruit smoothie; the straw was tucked under his bandanna, allowing him to drink while preserving his anonymity.

"I'm supervising." She stated in a factual manner.

Z-One glanced over her, then down at the mechbay. "Well, yeah." He nodded. "I can see that you're really hard at work there. Oh yeah. The stress must be killing you."

She let out a contented chortle. "I think I'm getting the hang of being a mercenary commander." She looked over the bay. "It's not that hard."

"Given that you make random decisions and delegate all the hard work, sure." He took a prolonged slurp from his drink. "So that's the new guy's mech?"

"Well, what do you think?" Reven asked as she looked over the mech.

"I dunno." Z-One commented between slurps on his smoothie. "It looks a bit out of place."

"Hmm." She looked over the _Wraith _again, which was currently decorated in an eminently sensible forest camouflage scheme. Then, she looked over the mech bays; her _Black Knight, _with its silver and black colours immediately stood out. Almost as distinctive was Fish's silver, blue and gold _Awesome,_ and, next to it, Steve's blue, bronze and black _Axeman. _However, possibly the most eye-catching (besides her own fantastic Mech, of course) was Ford's coral-pink and bright yellow _Venom._

"I see." She finished. "You make a good point. I'll ask him to re-paint it to something more appropriate."

Z-One shook his head. "You get straight to the obvious point as always, boss."

She glanced at her, narrowing her eyes. "Is there something on your mind? You usually only get overly mean-spirited like this when there's something bothering you."

He took another sip. "And you rarely, if ever listen to me, so does it matter?"

"Okay, you have my attention." She grudgingly admitted. "So speak up rather then making faces at me behind your mask."

"So," Z-One began as he finished off the last few drops of his smoothie with a loud slurp. "You hired a guy who you know nothing about who doesn't even have a proper name and is blatantly lying to your face." He offered. "And you hired him because he looks good, probably so you could have a unit staffed entirely by good looking guys with nice hair." He shrugged as he wiggled his straw around the base of the cup. "Just saying, that's all"

She quirked a brow. "And he's different from you how?"

"Wellll..." He seemed thoughtful for a moment. It was hard to tell under the mask. "I don't have nice hair."

"You know what I mean though." She stated.

"I'm just saying that maybe you shouldn't have hired him without knowing more."

"I hired you, and I know even less about you." She countered.

"aaaaand there were rather particular circumstances behind you hiring me." He finished. "Remember?"

Reven sighed., clearly defeated "No, I haven't forgotten about Pogata."

-----

**Pogata**

**Planet Unknown**

**Former Outworlds Alliance**

**Date Unknown, 3059**

"Reven! Damn it, that Bezz woman was right!" her commander called over the communicator. "Get out of here n-" The message cut off in a sudden, sharp burst of static. However, Reven didn't have to guess what had just happened. And, as near as she could tell, she was all alone.

Sweat poured off her; not just from the heat of her mech, with its cracked reactor shielding and damage heat sinks, but from her fear. The ruined city loomed around her, and in its shadows, the mysterious attackers that had come after her unit. There had been no warnings, no orders to leave, no efforts to communicate. They had simply attacked, clearly with the intent of wiping out any who had witnessed their presence.

_I have to get out of here. _She shook her head. _Keep it together, Reven. You have to get out of here. Stay calm, remain focused. _She opened up the throttle, the damaged _Black Knight _lumbering to speed. Fortunately, it hadn't yet suffered any damage to its legs or gyro, and was still fully mobile. It was an advantage; the only one she had.

Her mech's armour was shredded, and had been breached in several places. The engine shielding had been cracked, spiking its internal heat. Its left arm had been blasted off, with little more than a stump of twisted metal and crackling wires remaining. Her status boards showed that only a few good hits would be enough for the damage to become critical and finish her off.

_I have to get away! _The mech stormed through the streets of the ruined city, buildings that had been abandoned and crumbling for centuries surrounding it. Ordinarily, she would have been curious; what was this place, who lived here and why had it been abandoned so long ago. Now she simply cared about only one thing – herself. She had to leave this nightmarish place alive. Nothing else mattered.

Beeps from her sensors warned her that the enemy mechs were still on her tail. They were spread out, but seemed to be following her. The clutter and debris made it hard to tell, and her _Black Knight's _Beagle Probe had been destroyed earlier. Were it still intact, it would have given her a much better idea of what was going on and allowed her to better plan her escape. As it was, it was a piece of useless junk that told her nothing.

Cement and asphalt cracked as she took a sharp turn, managing to keep the massive mech under control despite the broken pavement. Ahead, she could see her goal; the buildings thinning out, a road leading off into the barren countryside – and away from her attackers. _Keep focused, stay calm, concentrate on staying alive, s_he told herself, knowing full well that she wasn't fooling herself. Her heart was racing, pounding against her chest as fear flowed though her.

_Don't panic! Run! _The _Black Knight_ continued at top speed, doing its best to put the city and her attackers well behind her. She could see that she was nearly away; maybe two hundred meters to go. A part of her mind told her that she would be safe by simply escaping the city; after all, they'd only been attacked once they entered the city, the one that they'd been warned about. If she left it, they would leave her alone. She kept telling herself this as she pushed on.

And then everything changed. A pair of mechs stepped out in front of her, blocking her escape path; a sleek _Vixen _and a broad _Lancelot. _The disparity between the two would seem almost comedic in any other situation, but instead only served to make them even more sinister. Both of them sported the flat green colour scheme of the attackers, and the same ominous lack of markings.

_I'm dead! _She thought to herself, her body shuddering in fear. Her Mech outmassed either of them, but she was clearly outnumbered and outgunned here. Furthermore, both of them were fresh, while her machine was badly damaged. "I-" She managed to gasp out. "Don't-" They raised their arms, ready to fire as Reven desperately looked around, frantically searching for an escape.

Abruptly, the _Vixen's _flank erupted in a fireball as it was struck by a trio of beams, slicing through the small mech's side. The mech reeled back, a gaping wound torn in its side, black smoke piouring out from its ruined systems. Regardless, the beams continued their destructive path, slicing into the _Lancelot's _leg, neatly sawing it in half. The Mech simply collapsed forward, its awkward weapon arms providing no support as it crashed into the pavement.

"What-" Reven gasped, frantically looking around. She could see her saviour rapidly pulling away into the sky; her sensors quickly tagged the machine as a _Stingray _aerospace fighter.

"Come with me if you want to live!" A voice crackled over the communicator. She had no idea who was speaking, and could only guess that it was the pilot of the Aerospace fighter. It was a risk, but she had no other option.

The Black Knight charged forwards, leaping over the two downed machines before either of them could respond. _Whoever you are, _she thought to herself. _I owe you my life._

-----

**Storm Riders Offices, Harlech**

**Outreach**

**Chaos March**

**31 March, 3067**

"So what do you want?" Reven asked as she glanced at him. "You only mention Pogata when you want something."

"Just for you to pay attention to Lambchop there." Z-One finished. "Oh, and get me another smoothie."

-----

**Outskirts of Ambermill**

**Fletcher**

**Chaos March**

**6 April, 3067**

A pair of _Cavalry _attack VTOLs passed overhead, their bright colours stark against the dull, overcast skies. Their noses erupted into clouds of fire and smoke as they disgorged flights of SRMs at the militia units below; however, rather then exploding on contact with the enemy armour, the missiles burst open, spraying the tanks with a gelatinous goo.

Danae couldn't help but grin as the vehicles burst into flames as the inferno rounds ignited. While dangerous to mechs, against vehicles, Inferno missiles could be lethal. One of the Vedette tanks that had been struck tore itself apart as its ammunition cooked off due to the heat, consuming itself in a massive fireball. _A fitting death, for all that they have caused us. _As cruel and inhumane as it was, she couldn't help but be impressed by the actions of her newfound allies.

She had been initially somewhat struck by them; their mechs were painted in a rather distinctive bright yellowish-orange, with a red pattern that suggested nothing so much as blood veins. This scheme reflected their insignia; a yellow-orange eye on a seven-pointed black star; it was an insignia that she was not familiar with at all.

However, there was no questioning their effectiveness. They called themselves the Bloody Star; two companies of mechs, a company each of VTOLs and hovercraft, and supporting infantry. While they were mainly equipped with older technologies, they were brutal and unrelenting, showing no mercy to their enemies. Working alongside her Blackguards, the Bloody Star had managed to not only break the stalemate, but punch through the enemy lines.

She had no idea where they had come from; all she knew was that they had been hired by the Word of Blake to aid her unit. It was a part of the renegotiated terms that Ogel had presented to her; the Blackguards and Bloody Star would be working together in future operations; while they would not be merged, they would support each other. It was a future that she knew she would have to accept. Ogel had altered her unit's command rights, effectively binding them to a long-term contract with the Word.

However, for all that the Word had promised them so much more; they would receive replacement mechs and personnel, salvage and upgrades. And, above all else, they would have a chance for the one thing Danae truly desired – revenge. And that was a part of their deal; Ogel had promised her that she would have her opportunity. All she had to do was serve the Word, and the opportunity would present itself. She would see her enemies destroyed, he had stated.

"Weiss, their frontline is falling back." The voice of the Bloody Star's commander crackled over her communicator. "The Devastators are moving in to support them."

"Understood. My company will close in and destroy them. Support us, and keep up the pressure on the Militia."

"Affirmative. They will know pain." He finished as he closed the channel. Danae was not sure what to make of the man; identified only as "Stan", his features suggested a mixed ancestry of no single identified background. He wore an intense glare, as if he was judging all those around him. And he was covered entirely in jagged black tattoos; while she had only seen his face, hands and feet, they all shared the same pattern, presuming to be interconnected. There was something decidedly odd about the man, almost supernatural.

She pushed her _Highlander_ forward, surging towards the enemy's position. Ahead of her, at the crest of the hill, the Devastators were doing the best to prop up their allies, holding the gaps in their line. "Attack!" She called over her command channel. "Show no mercy!"

Flights of missiles leaped from her mechs, accompanied by long-range laser and cannon shots that pummelled into the enemy lines. While several of the enemy machines staggered under their fire, the Devastators held their ground, responding with their own counter-assault. Missiles rocked Danae's mech, chipping away at the armour. A quick glance over her status board told her that the damage was negligible. While her men were pushing uphill to theirs, they had the advantages of better equipment, superior numbers and pure ruthlessness – one that the Devastators could not hope to match.

Glancing over the enemy lines, she singled out a lone mech; a turquoise and purple _Cyclops _in the centre of the force. It was the same machine that had attacked her in Pyrewood two weeks ago. Intelligence told her something even more important, however; it was the mech of the Devastators' commander.

_Now to make an example of you. _Dropping her sights on the _Cyclops, _she opened fire with theGauss Rifle and LRMs. The rifle slammed into its leg, crushing the armour, while the missiles peppered across the torso. The _Cyclops _stumbled but held its ground, returning fire with its own weapons. The Gauss Rifle slammed into her mech's left arm, crushing the armour bunt inflicting no serious damage, while the missiles went wide.

The _Highlander_ charged forwards, closing the distance between the two machines; regaining its footing, the _Cyclops_ did the same. Danae couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched her opponent. The _Cyclops_ was a command platform, not a true assault mech. Anyone who tried to use it as one was bound to get himself killed – which is what Kevin was apparently doing.

Her _Highlander _was slower then his mech, true. However it was far better armed, and carried the better part of twice as much armour, giving her all the advantages. She closed the ground between the two mechs, her two missile launchers and Gauss rifle spraying fire at the enemy _Cyclops. _The shots struck home, the missiles wreathing the _Cyclops_ in fire before the Gauss Rifle struck home, slamming into its torso.

Keeping its footing, the _Cyclops_ returned fire, chipping armour from the _Highlander's _flanks without severely damaging it. Even though he still had the high ground, Danae was clearly winning this duel, at this rate, her mech would well outlast his. However, she was not aiming to make this last. She wanted it over, now.

As the _Cyclops _bought its weapons to bear, she opened up with the _Highlander's _jump jets, the massive mech leaping away from the _Cyclops _on pillars of fusion-powered flames, the enemy fire tearing through the space where she had been. Vaulting uphill, she landed on the _Cyclops' _flank, twisting her mech around to open fire as soon as she was down.

Missiles and lasers poured onto the mech, tearing apart its armour and eating into its structure. However, the Gauss Rifle did the most damage, pulverising the damaged leg, snapping the metallic bones and tearing the limb apart. The _Cyclops_ crashed forward, slamming into the muddy ground.

Danae walked her mech over to her downed foe, glaring at the damaged machine as it struggled to rise. "Kevin Batterson." She called out over her PA system. "It was not your forces that stymied me; it was the treason of one of my own." A blast from her lasers tore into the _Cyclops'_ arm, tearing it apart and sending the mech crashing back into the mud.

"However, you too must pay for your role in this." She stated. "The injustice your unit measured against mine will not go unpunished."

_Reven, this is your future. _Her _Highlander _stopped next to his machine, then raised one of its massive, armoured legs. _This is the price of treason. _She bought the foot down, crushing the _Cyclops' _head.

-----

**Red's Glare, Temptowns, Harlech**

**Outreach**

**Chaos March**

**7 April, 3067**

For Fletch, the last few weeks had been rather unpleasant. After being kicked out of the Blackguards – he refused to acknowledge their name change, nor their alleged new commander – he'd been left with only his mech and the few meagre possessions that he carried with him. His entire life had amounted to a duffel bag and a bank account.

To his dismay, that account wasn't lasting very long. Housing his mech did not come cheaply, which was rapidly eating into his finances. As a result, he'd taken up board in a flophouse in Temptowns until he could find a job.

That he was here in Temptowns was indicative of just how badly Reven had hurt him. This was not a place for a professional like him, one who had genuine skills and experience. No, Temptowns was a place for the no-hopers, the dead-enders, the has-beens and the never-would-bees. True, he could probably easily pick up work here, but he knew that it wouldn't be pretty. However, it would be enough to tide him over so he could get out of here and get into a real unit.

He glanced down at his drink; the glass looked grimy and unwashed, just like the rest of the place. Everything in Red's Glare spoke of being on its last legs. The furniture was bettered, the floor bare and uncovered, the lights dim simply due to the number of missing bulbs that had never been replaced.

The patronage spoke even more of the place then the building itself, however. Worn-looking men and women, clad in the tatters of what had once been uniforms. To a man, they were quiet, carefully watching for any opportunities that may present themselves, any sign of a potential employer. Not only would they want to put on their best show, but they also wanted to head off anyone else who might want to do the same.

In its own way, this was a desperate, cut-throat place. The people here had nothing to lose, and those who sought employees here knew that. They could dictate terms, and the people here would eat them up.

_I don't belong here. _Fletch told himself. _I had a unit, until she stole it from me. _He desperately wanted to reclaim the Blackguards and drive Reven out, however, he had no idea how to do that. She had manipulated the remaining officers into unquestionably supporting her, leaving him without allies. _Except for Ford, _he thought. He knew that she was still loyal to him. After all, she hadn't done anything to support Reven during her coup. However, she was one Mechwarrior against Reven's army of thugs.

"Fletch Chase?"

He looked up from his drink to see a man standing over his table. No different from dozens of others, he clearly was a mercenary mechwarrior – or had been in past. His features were craggy and lined, his hair and moustache grey. And while he was dressed in a duster and cowboy hat, he could tell by the way the man carried himself that he was a trained soldier.

"I am." He stated. "And you are?"

The man seated himself, putting his hat down on the table. "Name's Rob Clydeburger. I've heard about cha, Mr Fletch."

"What have you heard?" he asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"That you're one mighty fine mechwarrior and lieutenant that got himself hornswaggled by a low-down rattlesnake." He offered. "She took yer unit and tossed yer out into the street like a pound of horse hockey."

"You seem to have me, mister Clydeburger." He stated, having gone from desperate to angry at hearing someone recount what had happened. Just hearing about it made his blood boil. "So what do you want?"

"My employer's buildin' up a force of his own, one made of men like yerself." He explained. "Ones who have been hard done by and are itchin' to even the score."

_And would do anything to get back at Reven. _"I'm interested, Mister Clydeburger. Tell me more."

The aged cowboy grinned. "Thought so, Mr Fletch. You look like a mighty fine mechwarrior in and of yourself, and one who I think would be proud to be a part of a unit with a long an' storied history. And, and the same time, that unit would be proud to have a capable pilot like you"

He was fascinated. Gaining a place in a unit was his goal, but he hadn't dreamed of getting into a unit with a name or reputation to trade off. And here was this man offering him all he wanted. "Tell me, then, what unit is this?"

Clydeburger's grin broadened. "Son, welcome to the Waco Rangers."

-----

**Hiring Hall, Harlech**

**Outreach**

**Chaos March**

**8 April, 3067**

After bringing the company up to full strength, it had taken another week of restructuring, re-filing of paper-work, re-registering and re-naming dropships to have the Storm Riders ready to hit the market. There had been surprisingly few questions about the fate of the units former commander (and most of its force) from the MRBC; it appeared that if something bad had happened to a commander who was willing to work for the Word of Blake, then Wolf's Dragoons were happy with that. If it was blatantly obvious that they had been deposed in a coup by an officer who wasn't interested in working for the Word, then it was even better.

"Okay everyone." Reven began as she strode into the Hiring Hall, the other Storm Riders officers following in her footsteps. "We're new on the scene. Let's make a good impression." Reven herself seemed to be dressed more for a night on the town then meeting potential employers; a designer shirt left unbuttoned to the navel, matching slacks and a jacket with a genuine fur collar topped off with designer sunglasses pushed up on her forehead that suggested that she had spent more on her clothes then the other representatives of the unit put together – including the one in the Mil-spec flightsuit.

This was where she had been at home for a long time. As a part of the Blackguards, she had happily helped bring attention to the unit by strutting around the Hiring Hall and standing out. It came naturally to her; she was, to her mind, just that dazzlingly attractive and seductive that people wanted to talk to her. Of course, by doing such, she'd helped to steer potential employers towards Major Weiss, who did all the actual hard work of setting up a contract.

While many potential employers offered contracts purely electronically; posted on bulletin boards and moderated by the MRBC, most still preferred to do the negotiation face to face. That was where she had shone; she'd helped to sway things to the Blackguards advantage in numerous cases through careful manipulation and persuasion. It was an art, one she excelled at.

Of course, after Danae had fallen in with the Word of Blake, all of Reven's hard work became redundant. The Word dealt largely through intermediaries and were not impressed by Reven's charm, wit and sophistication. Yet another black mark against her former commander.

"So spread out and get to work." She finished, turning to face her men. "And make me proud." She threw in a wink and a smile to boot. "Let me know the instant you find anything."

And that was where the real legwork began; getting out there, seeing what was on offer and what they were capable of fulfilling. Her unit's small size and relatively sophisticated equipment worked against them to a degree; they needed a contract for a small unit, yet one that would pay enough to cover their not inconsiderable expenses. Clearly a compromise had to be found between the two, which usually required a rather forgiving or generous employer.

Fortunately, Reven was sure that she could turn anyone to her advantage.

After a half hour of searches and several potential leads, she had her first bite. However, this was not what she had expected; rather then an electronic message in response to an offer, she was instead approached in person.

"Captain Reven Dyron?"

He was an average looking man of obvious Asian decent; dressed in a sharp business suit, he could have easily blended into a crowd. "Yes?" She asked, carefully eyeing him over.

"I am Taro Watanabe, representative of Metals of the Earth." He replied with an ever so slight bow. "Do you know of my company?"

"Originally based on Nox." Lambcop cut in, a bag of chips in his hand. "Starting as a pure mining firm, it expanded into mining equipment, chemicals, synthetics, myomers and eventually industrial mechs." He paused to eat a chip. "MotE worked with the Crosby Myomer Research firm to help reverse-engineer the Triple Strength Myomer system for the DCMS."

Taro nodded. "Your officer is very well-informed, Captain Dyorn"

"_Domo Arigato, Watanabe-Sama" _Lambchop replied with a bow.

Reven glared at him, clearly upstaged. "How may we aid your company, Mister Watanabe?" She asked, trying to regain the initiative.

"My company is working on several very important projects for the DCMS at present." He began. "However, as military resources are regrettably stretched thin, we wish to hire extra security for our facilities, as well as professional soldiers to aid us in our work. My company would be most generous in compensation for that assistance, with an eye to future employment if all goes well."

Reven gave a thoughtful nod. "Well, Mister Watanabe. Your offer is most intriguing, and I certainly would be interested in hearing more. Shall we adjourn to negotiate matters further?"

It went surprisingly well from there. For a Draconis businessman, Watanabe was surprisingly friendly and open to negotiations, acting more akin to a Lyran or FedSuns agent then the notoriously hard-arsed practices of his type. Instead, he was happy to work with them and discuss matters, and very flexible on his offer. The MRBC had reviewed every step of the process, ensuring that everything was legitimate and that one side wasn't attempting to screw over the other.

And, in the end, the Storm Riders had their first contract.

After concluding business (and pleasantries) Reven strutted out of the room, her step a confident swagger. "Well boys." She finished, tuning back to her collected officers with a broad grin on her face. "We're in business."


End file.
